


Paper Tigers

by echoist



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: AU, Cybernetics, First Time, Incest, M/M, automail kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-04
Updated: 2010-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoist/pseuds/echoist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A possible future where Ed has succeeded in restoring Al's body, only to discover some very unsettling things about himself as a result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Tigers

        Ed stares into the darkness, listening for the sound that roused him from sleep. It wasn't Al this time, doesn't think it was Al, anyway and he hopes it doesn't mean a fight. He is way, way too tired for a fight and more than a little apathetic. The citizens of this glorified lumber camp west of Central City have never liked the government's noses in their business, and it certainly wasn't Ed's idea to send two State Alchemists to ram it down their throats in the dead of winter when they stopped paying taxes. Again. No, that was Roy Mustang's idea, and Ed is willing to bet the General is sleeping just fine tonight.

        A small sound to his left, a different sound, and Ed reaches out instinctively. His hand stops just short of where Al lies next to him in the rickety, uncomfortable bed, unsure of whether to comfort or hold back. Ed never would have given it a second thought before, but now...everything seems so different now. They'd always slept apart on missions, Al taking the floor whenever an inn could not accommodate their request for separate beds. A giant suit of armor proved a poor bedmate, after all, and it had only taken one night of tangled metal limbs and an iron gauntlet to the face to cement their sleeping arrangements in the foreseeable future. That future had changed unexpectedly with the birth of the Philosopher's Stone and so, as a result, had their sleeping arrangements.

        Ed had known what using the stone meant. He'd been prepared to accept the consequences of his actions, whatever they might be and karma be damned - this was for _Al_. Nothing else, past, present or future even factored into the equation. What he had not been prepared to expect was the man standing where once a boy had been. It only made sense; just as Ed had changed, just as the years had taken him from a boy to a young man of 17, so too the years must have done for his brother. A suit of armor gathers scrapes and dents, perhaps a slight sheen of rust, but a boy -

        Ed stood outside the circle, dumbfounded, as a stranger rose shakily from a crouch to balance unsteadily on four shuddering limbs, weak as a newborn colt. Metal had crumpled in on itself in a flash of light and hope and abject terror, giving way to this pale, broad-shouldered creature that opened its mouth to whisper, "Brother?" Ed had rushed across the boundary, falling to his knees beside Alphonse and wrapping his arms around him as if to never let him go. Al hadn't wanted to sleep alone that night, or the night after that, and Ed hadn't been inclined to kick him out. At least not at first, not when he was still too shocked by his success to realize that his account with the universe was coming due.

        It started slowly. A brush of skin, hips sliding past in a tight space, a flush creeping across pale cheeks for no reason he could explain, until every tiny shift of Al's body in his sleep, every languid exhalation that breezed along hypersensitive skin, every time Ed woke up curled around his brother - _his brother_ and felt the things he felt, he knew he was paying for what he had done. He knew he would be paying for the rest of his life. Ed had accepted the consequences for his brother's salvation - but selfishly, he'd always suspected that the universe would demand flesh in return for flesh and not - not _this_, whatever _this_ was. He always thought he'd be lucky enough to simply die and have done with it.

        In a room on the edge of nowhere, Edward Elric wraps his arms around his brother with a heavy sigh. Al must have had another nightmare, yes, that's all it is - he's heard no other noise in the night. His brother's dreams have been awful since the transmutation, and Ed has never been any good at fighting paper tigers. He strokes Al's hair, hoping the metal of his automail fingers is not too cool against his brother’s skin. Al stirs in his sleep, murmuring something just beneath his breath and Ed can't stop staring at the tiny patch of moonlight on his throat.

        This is air and shadow, he thinks, air and shadow and I don't know how to fight what I can't see.

* * *

        Al fights the impulse to awaken from his dreams. It was such a nice dream, he thinks, this last one with a lake and a boat and his brother and - oh. His brother is here, too, arms wrapped tightly around him and Al snuggles back against the warmth, still half asleep. Ed must have had a bad dream, he seems never to have good ones anymore and Al really doesn't mind if he curls up for a while, after. That's big brother for you, he thinks drowsily, ready to rush right out and take on the world, no matter the danger, but terrified of whatever it is he sees in his sleep.

        Al opens his eyes and rolls over, winding his soft, flexible fingers through Ed's metal ones and shivering a little at the sudden chill. "Shh, brother," he whispers, then seeing the stricken look on his face, "what is it?" Ed says nothing, just buries his face in Al's neck and lets Al hold him close until he stops trembling. Only another nightmare, Al thinks, stroking his brother's back with a light, gentle touch. I wish I could see what you see, he thinks drowsily. Then I could help you fight it. Then I could -

        Al's eyes, nearly shut, flutter open again in the dark. What was - it couldn't - _it was_. Ed's mouth against his throat, open and moving, his quick, wet tongue slipping in and out - _oh_. Al's hand flies from Ed's back to cradle his head against his neck, tangle in his hair as that soft, perfect mouth stops and hot, shallow breaths become shuddering sobs. "Al," Ed whispers. "Oh, Al, I'm so sorry."

        "It's - all right, Ed." He manages, his own breath caught in his throat, stuck precisely where his brother had been kissing him just moments before. "No, it isn't!" Ed retorts, pushing himself up from his brother's chest. "It's wrong on just about every level I can think of, Al." Ed climbs out of bed, wiping tears from his eyes he hopes his brother can't see - never mind that Al's throat, his chest, and the pillows beneath him are salty and wet. Al watches him pace the floor, silhouetted in the dim glow of light that filters through the thick-paned window glass. His boxers are baggy, but not baggy enough and Al wants to reach out to him, pull him back to bed where he belongs.

        Ed leans his head against the window, hoping the cool night air will leech the heat from his skin and with it the unnatural thoughts and desires driving him mad. It was bad enough before, when he had been alone with his thoughts and his dreams and the way Al moved against him in his sleep but now he's really gone and done it and Al knows the truth of things. He _knows_, and Ed can never take that back as long as he lives. He exhales sharply, letting out a low, miserable moan and does not hear the bed creak as Al pushes back the covers and pads across the cold wooden floor.

        It has always bothered Ed, just a little, that Alphonse grew up taller than him, despite being the younger brother. Always, until now, when Ed feels the shadow creeping up behind him an instant before he registers the fingertips lightly gliding across his shoulders, sending arcs of lightning down his spine. Al's hands settle on his chest and pull him back into an embrace, his head resting perfectly in the hollow just below Al's collarbone and he thinks - just for a moment he lets himself think - maybe it was made to do that. "Al," he says softly to the air outside the window. "You don't have to do this."

        "I don't have to do anything, brother." Al answers, pulling back for a moment. The anguished look on Ed's face reflected in the glass is enough to remedy his indecision and he wraps his arms around his brother's waist. "All we've had for so very long is each other," Al whispers against his ear, and Ed shudders, not unpleasantly as a fire begins in his stomach and spreads slowly downward. "I've been there for you, and you - oh, Ed, you would have given up everything for me. Don't think I can't understand that, or that I don't. Who else would ever have us, anyway?

        "I know you've convinced yourself that this is wrong, but it isn't - it can't be - or you never would have wanted it in the first place." Ed chuckles tonelessly, turning his head to look up at his brother. "Al, don't be an idiot. People want the wrong things all the time - that doesn't mean they should get what they want."

        Al strokes his face with the back of his hand. "I know you'd never want anything that would hurt me, Ed. I trust you. And besides, I...I want this, too." Ed's breath catches in his chest. The air around them seems to still and he thinks he might shatter it like glass if he speaks first. Al takes the decision from him, cupping his chin in his hand and gently turning Ed around to face him. Returning both his hands to Ed's waist, Al pulls their bodies together in a delightfully electric movement before kissing his brother soundly on the lips.

        Ed makes a small noise in his throat as Al's mouth covers his, closed at first, Al's tongue prying it open little by little with each soft movement of his lips in concert. Ed's shoulders hit the window, the narrow sill digging into his back and he might care about that if Al's erection wasn't pressing against his hip, hot and insistent. "You've had that body your entire life," Al murmurs, kissing his way up Ed's jawline to his ear. "Do you have any idea what it was like, lying awake at night, watching you sleep, watching you jerk off, watching you - " He nibbles at Ed's ear, sucking a little at the lobe and Ed gasps, but whether at his words or just his mouth, Al can't be certain.

        "I've been a _statue_, Ed." Al whispers into his ear, hand against the window beside his head. He thrusts his hip against his brother's, once, twice, and Ed is pushing him back across the room, onto the bed and onto his back before he can think. "You're not a statue anymore," Ed growls, yanking at the drawstring securing Al's pants to his waist and pulling them off both legs at once.

        He stops for a moment, staring at Alphonse sprawled out across the bed, pale light swimming through the room like water. His hair is mussed and his cheeks are flushed vividly against his skin. He is the single most beautiful thing Ed has ever seen and for a moment he forgets to breathe. "Ed?" Al questions, confused and waiting. Ed kneels at the edge of the bed, settling himself between Al's legs with a look in his eyes that Al has never seen before, a look that dares Al to question it as Ed's fingers - his soft, natural fingers - wrap around the base of his cock. Al's eyes drift close as Ed's mouth settles around the velvety head, raw and throbbing at his touch. He flicks his tongue around in lazy circles, teasing and stroking as Al's mouth opens and a soft, strangled sort of moan emerges. Ed slides his tongue along the base of Al's cock, guiding it into his mouth and takes as much of the shaft in as he can at once, sliding up and down its length as he sucks. He wants to take his time with this, wants it to last, but Al was right - he hasn't had this body for very long, after all, and Ed has barely established a rhythm, barely even gotten started when he feels Al grasp his shoulders hard enough to bruise and his cock jumps in Ed's mouth with a warm, salty rush.

        "Oh - oh, Ed, I didn't mean to -" Al sputters, breathless, his heart pounding loud in the silence. "Yes, you did," Ed smirks, wiping his mouth and climbing onto the bed. Al flushes scarlet and Ed leans over the edge for a moment, rummaging around in his bag where it lies, half hidden, beneath the bedframe. He returns with a small glass jar and a slightly embarrassed look, scratching his head and licking his lips. "I, um." he says, unsure where to begin. _Gee, Al, I know this might seem sudden, all things considered, but would you mind terribly if I fucked you?_ just doesn't seem the way to go. To his surprise, Al smiles shyly and reaches out a hand.

        "Give it here," he says. "What?" Ed replies, expecting to have to explain precisely what he wants in great detail and then listen to a litany of (well-deserved) protests against that very thing. "The jar," Al repeats. "I, well, you see," he begins, seeing Ed's confusion. "I watched you and Roy, too."

        "What?" Ed squeals, jumping back, his face gone livid. "Well there wasn't much else for me to do, now was there?" Al retorts, indignant. The thought of Al hiding somewhere, watching while the General had him over his desk, pants around his ankles, moaning incomprehensible things that all added up to _fasterharderdon'tstop_ \- should really be more alarming and less arousing than it suddenly is. Ed bites his lip against the noise he wants to make. "Now are you going to give me that jar, or not?" Al's face is flushed with embarrassment, but he holds out his hand, all the same.

        "If you were really watching us," Ed says slowly, stomach filling up with butterflies, "I think you'd realize that I'm the one who's going to be using it, since, ah, well -" Al smirks. "I know, I just had an idea, that's all." Ed blinks and hands over the jar of lubricant without another word. He is surprised when Al reaches for his hand - his right hand, his mechanical hand, and hesitantly, with a cautious look, begins coating each metal finger in turn with clear, slippery gel.

        "Al." Ed says, his voice gone to a whisper. "You really want me to -"

_        "Yes."_ Oh, God, he doesn't think he can_get_ any harder. Ed reaches for a pillow with his left hand, slips it just behind Al's hips and pushes him down onto the bed. Al edges back, lifting his hips obediently as Ed slides a hand under the small of his back, cupping his ass in his left hand and gently teasing with his right. He can't believe that this is what Al really wanted - the mechanical part of him, the part he gave up - a portion of himself lost and replaced and one finger sliding gently inside Alphonse, cool metal parting flesh with a moan. Ed watches the light play across Al's face, mingling with surprise and delight as he strokes and explores his brother's body from the inside. Al's eyes open wide, eyelids flickering and he memorizes that spot for later. One molded steel finger becomes two, gently stretching, teasing, thrusting as Al's moans deepen and his hips begin to move in time with Ed's strokes. His breathing harsh and shallow, Ed presses down against Al's hips with his left hand, only flesh and bone, but still leaving a mark, to keep from bringing himself off too soon. "Ed," his brother moans, already hard again, and Ed wonders just how long he's wanted this. He teases Al's entrance with a third finger, thrusts inside once more with his automail hand as Al writhes beneath him and that's as long as he can stand it.

        Ed coats his cock with one slick stroke and withdraws his fingers slowly, curving them upward to catch just the right spot as they leave Al's body. He enters the space they leave behind with a swift thrust and Ed's world stops, narrowing down to a single intense focus beneath him. That focus closes his eyes, opens his mouth in a long, low moan and raises his hips to meet Ed thrust for thrust, slowly at first, and then faster, harder, as Ed finds he cannot take his time with this after all. He slips his right hand between Al's legs, having trouble with the rhythm but from the sounds coming out of his mouth, Al doesn't seem to mind. A few quick strokes, a twist of metal fingers around the swollen head and Al comes for the second time, shaking, his body falling limp against the bed where Ed isn't propping him up. Al wraps his arms around Ed and pulls him in closer with each frantic thrust, covering his mouth with fierce, hot kisses and Ed's world explodes with a rush into a white hot blaze of light.

        Ed collapses against his brother with a sigh, aching and shivering from something deeper than the cold. "Al," he whispers, clutching at his brother's arms, "promise me,” but he can't bring himself to say the words haunting his mind, racing through his veins. Exhaustion is winning; he can hardly keep his eyes open but his ears still hear Al's words in response, floating down from above where Ed's head is cradled against his chest.

        “I promise, brother,” he sighs, and there are no more words to be said.


End file.
